


Hungarian Dance No. 5 in G-minor

by fresh96



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, College Parties, Drinking, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Mentions of Sex, No Plot/Plotless, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drinking, allusions to sex acts, and boys in love, general party shenaniganery, just ateez at a party, literally no plot, unsafe drinking habits, vomit is mentioned but nothing happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27041023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fresh96/pseuds/fresh96
Summary: The morning after a party was definitely Jongho’s favorite kind of morning.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	Hungarian Dance No. 5 in G-minor

The morning after a party was definitely Jongho’s favorite kind of morning.

Everyone always wakes up extra early, sometimes still with the spins, probably still drunk since it’s 7 am and they only went to sleep around 4:30, and the silence is absolutely deafening. Like, it’s one thing to get your eardrum blown out by Hongjoong’s shitty subwoofer that he stole out of someone’s garbage, and he loves that too don’t get him wrong, but there’s just something so loud about the absolute silence the morning after a party.

Today, for instance, was a Saturday, which meant that they all had approximately 12 hours to recover fully before it was back to the 6 day a week party circuit that was going on in their house (Sunday night was the off night, because Seonghwa had a 9 am Statistics class on Monday mornings and, realistically, this was his house). It would definitely be needed, because Jongho felt like he had probably accidentally sliced his toe off hopping a fence last night, and his body felt like it had been hit by a truck (probably because he had eaten shit over the afore mentioned fence). The Advil in his side table should help with that. Luckily, Jongho was still drunk which meant he had time to preemptively kill whatever hangover he was going to have. Technically you’re not supposed to mix alcohol with Advil, but Jongho guessed he was probably sober enough by now for that to cancel out. PEMDAS, or something. Drunk math.

In the kitchen, Jongho finds Yunho nursing a black coffee, huddled in one of Wooyoung’s extremely oversized sweaters. Only God knows what Wooyoung would need with a triple XL Harvard sweater when they go to school in the middle of bumfuck-nowhere USA. He doesn’t say anything to his friend, that would break the silent-morning-after-a-party covenant, but he does nod at the other man because Yunho looks like the back of Jongho’s left eye feels; which is to say Yunho looks like shit. Yunho had drunk less that he last night, which probably meant that Yunho was already in full blown hangover mode. This, in turn, also probably meant that the deceptively black coffee Yunho was sipping had whiskey in it; the best cure for a hangover was, of course, to get drunk again. The floor of the kitchen is sticky, like always, because no one who lived there could ever find the time or energy to clean it, and the people who just crash there (coughyunhomingiyeosanghongjoongcough) couldn’t be bothered. Yunho did sometimes cook breakfast though in return for the party or if he needed to pay someone back for drugs and happened to be broke or whatever. They mostly ran on the barter system here. The counter in the kitchen is strewn with red solo cups, regular cups, and about 30 shot glasses. All of them were knocked over. Jongho thinks about throwing the solo cups away but reminds himself that no one here would get paid for another week so they should probably just wash them if they wanted to have enough cups to go around.

Inexplicably, San and Wooyoung are passed out on the couch in the living room, rather than in their own fucking beds and for some god-awful reason the TV is tuned to CSPAN. The living room doesn’t look much better than the kitchen; cups everywhere, and random people still passed out on the floor, complete with a mysterious looking dark spot on the carpet up by the front of the house. There aren’t many rules here, but No Pissing Inside is one of them, so Jongho hopes that it’s a spilled drink or vomit or something so no one would have to get an earful from Seonghwa later. Aside from the No Pissing Inside rule, there was also No Fucking on the Good Couch (the shitty couch that was right next to the front door was fair game), and No Strangers in Seonghwa and Jongho’s bedroom. They kept the weed and the bong in there and unless it was just a circle of close friends, Seonghwa was not willing to share. San had actually once had weed stolen out from under his mattress during a party, so the house’s entire stash was in their room. There were exceptions to every rule though. One time, Wooyoung’s friend Yeonjun had brought his brand new, disabled puppy to show off to party goers and she had pissed right on San’s recliner, but she was really cute, so no one really minded, and depending on how drunk Seonghwa was he might consider some chick he had just met his new best friend and allow her into the sanctum that was the weed storage room. People who didn’t like smoking were also allowed in if their friends were smoking. In Jongho’s opinion, he would rather people steal their weed and piss on the floor than vomit on the floor, but that was because no one else would clean it up except him.

“Dude do you want a coffee?” Yunho’s voice is scratchy and rough and Jongho is surprised he spoke at all considering the death glare he had been giving the floor when Jongho had walked in.

“I’m not looking to black out at 3 pm today, so no.”

Yunho gives him a shrug that says, ‘suit yourself’ and Jongho continues to survey the mess. The back door is actually _not_ open for once, which Jongho counts as a victory. After summer parties they often leave it open just because they can, and the habit tends to bleed over into early fall, enough to make the house a bitch and a half to heat sometimes. It’s mid-October now, so it’s cold enough that leaving the door open all night would make the house super uncomfortable but they had luckily escaped that misfortune last night. In their dining room, the one that has the shitty couch in it, Jongho counts three people he doesn’t know passed out underneath the table, one with their leg halfway onto the shitty couch. The one with his leg up has no pants, and there are no pants around on the floor that Jongho can see. Jongho himself had lost his pants at a party once, so he salutes the guy and moves on. On the other side of the room, Yeosang is sitting on the slightly less shitty couch, plunking away at San’s Switch. He looks chipper, giving Jongho a toothy smile before returning to his game, and Jongho curses the gods for the nth time for giving goddamn _Yeosang_ , who barely ever drinks, the ability to forgo hangovers. Not counting the back or front yards, Jongho had pretty much covered the entire house now which meant Mingi and Hongjoong are either passed out in San and Wooyoung’s beds (or together maybe, you never know) or they had walked back to their own house after the party had wrapped up this morning. Seonghwa, he knows, is right in back bed where Jongho had left him. Seonghwa preferred smoking to drinking, so it was no surprise that he was still knocked out (and would probably stay that way for at least 3 more hours). Everyone accounted for.

“Yeosang, Mickey Ds?” Jongho asks, forgoing most of the words in the sentence, instead trying to beam what he means into Yeosang’s brain using the telepathic method they had developed once when they were tripping nuts. Miraculously, Yeosang understands and he moves back into San’s room, presumably to find his car keys. Jongho sticks his head back into the kitchen.

“Mickey Ds? I’m buying. Don’t break the bank.”

Yunho looks at him gratefully, the sheen of his alcoholic coffee already making his eyes sparkle more than normal. “Burritos please.”

“Us too.” Choruses the duo in the living room, still laying in the exact position Jongho had seen them in minutes before, eyes still closed. Spooky.

“Text me your orders then, Jekyll and Hyde.”

That gets Wooyoung to crack open his eyes. “Who’s Jekyll and who’s Hyde?”

Jongho shrugs. He’d never actually read the book.

San is the one who responds, in typical Literature major fashion, eyes still closed. “No one is either Wooyoung. The book is probably an allegory for being gay or trans, and since we are both out and completely unhinged, that would make us both Hyde, which is stupid and defeats the purpose of the comparison. We’re more like Frankenstein and Clerval since I’m a beautiful ray of sunshine and you’re a mad scientist with no respect for humanity.”

Wooyoung looks at Jongho as if to say, ‘are you seeing this?’ and Jongho shrugs again. “I’m not touching that one.”

Yeosang returns then, car keys and sunglasses in hand, and Jongho follows him out the front door (the one that doesn’t lock all the way since Mingi attempted to break it down with brute force over 4th of July weekend). The drive to McDonald’s is short, not even 2 minutes, so they probably could’ve walked, but Jongho is starting to feel a little hungover even with the Advil he had pounded earlier, so he wanted to get the trip over with as quickly as possible. Yeosang’s car, unlike Jongho’s is pristine (unless you count the trunk, which Yeosang does not). There’s even a little air freshener hanging from the review mirror, in a scent that Jongho usually likes too, but it’s just a little too much today, so he stuffs it into Yeosang’s glove box. Besides his impending hangover (he really should’ve taken Yunho up on that coffee), it’s a beautiful morning. The fall air is crisp and cool, and the leaves are just barely beginning to change color the way he likes. He hopes Seonghwa will wake up early enough for them to drive somewhere and enjoy it before the festivities later in the day.

When they finally get back home after buying a truly disturbing number of breakfast burritos, Jongho is balls deep in his hangover headache. What had just been a twinge behind his eye earlier had transformed into a truly awesome beast, the pain of which was rivaled only by the time he broke his ankle doing track and field in the 6th grade. To make matters worse, Seonghwa is already awake when they return, arguing playfully (the audacity) with Yunho in the kitchen over somegoddamnthing. Jongho loves Seonghwa, he really does, but his arguing voice has the uncanny ability to drive Jongho absolutely up the wall whether he was the intended target or not.

“Baby,” Seonghwa turns to Jongho almost as soon as he and Yeosang make it back through their front door. “Will you please tell Yunho that I’m not a ‘casual’?”

Yunho snorts. “You play League like once a year dude. That’s about as casual as it gets.”

“Your mom didn’t think I was casual when I blew her back out last night.”

“My mom is dead.”

“Shut the fuck up Yunho, I talked to her like three days ago. She said she wants you to call her more.”

“Well now I feel bad!”

Jongho doesn’t really want to get involved on account of the pounding headache, but he feels like he has to since Seonghwa is _definitely_ a casual. “You’re definitely a casual, Hwa.” Seonghwa starts to look outraged, but Jongho continues, “But that’s okay because you still enjoy it. Also, if I don’t get some quiet right now, I’m going to snap and kill us all. So, here’s the McDonalds-” he hands the bag to his boyfriend “- and I’m going to eat in our room and then nap. Love you.” Unbeknownst to Jongho, Yeosang gives Seonghwa a _look_ , and the latter departs down the hallway after him, carefully shutting their door so as to make no noise.

Their room is the biggest in the house, which is nice, but the house is only a little over 1200 square feet, so it doesn’t really mean much in the grand scheme of things. The walls are decorated with posters (Jongho), trophies (both, although Jongho’s are for sports whereas Seonghwa’s are for academics), and glow-in-the-dark, stick on stars (Seonghwa). They have one desk to share, shoved into the right corner of the room, on the same wall as the door, and their bed is outfitted with items that could kindly be called ‘well used’. Overall, it was an average college living space. Jongho is collapsed in the center of their bed, eyes squeezed shut, munching furiously on the burrito held tightly in his hand. Seonghwa (quietly) pulls a joint out of his pocket and lights it, careful not to inhale too harshly because he rolled this himself and it has no filter. It lights nicely, smoke trailing off the end, and Seonghwa takes a nice long hit, stilling his lungs, and nudges his boyfriend’s free arm. Jongho blinks and accepts the joint, also inhaling deeply. Now hands free, Seonghwa climbs into bed next to Jongho, laying his head in the crook of Jongho’s shoulder. He plucks the joint back out of his hand and takes a few more hits. They lay like this for who knows how long (Jongho might be a decent drinker, but he’s a lightweight when it comes to weed, so they could’ve been laying there for a century and he would never realize) passing the joint back and forth until there’s nothing left and Jongho has finished his burritos. The room is filled with smoke now since the ventilation in their house continues to be complete garbage, so Seonghwa reaches up a little to swish it through the air and watch the patterns. They lay in silence for a little longer, enjoying the high and the company before Seonghwa turns over, wrapping his arm around Jongho’s middle.

“Let’s nap.” He whispers, “We can wake up in a few hours and look at the leaves like you like.”

Jongho hums and curls into Seonghwa a little before letting the incoming nap overtake him. 

´

Hours later, after the nap and drive and a quickie in the back of Jongho’s 2003 Subaru Outback, the party is in full swing. Mingi had cleaned a little after he had woken up, thank god, so the house didn’t actually look too bad. All the half dead kids on their floor had made their way home sometime around 3:30, so no one was underfoot and Yunho had set up the beer-pong table in their tiny little hallway, so Jongho thought it was turning out nicely. Yeosang, who was the official Knower of People in their little group, had sent out a group invite on Facebook to everyone they usually invited, along with everyone they wanted to bring. It wasn’t necessarily BYOB, but it was strongly encouraged that you bring a bottle of _something_ to contribute to the communal booze stash. In the kitchen Mingi is pouring people his famous Pink Panty Droppers and watching one of their friends, a girl named Alyssa, throw ass to the indiscernible but very bass-y music blasting out of Hongjoong’s really bad speakers. She’s bent over the counter, skirt lifted, her friend standing next to her slapping her completely bare ass, and Jongho can’t help but be impressed by their dedication. Behind her, Yunho grabs two IPA bottles out of the fridge and tosses one to San, who’s sitting at their ‘League table’ surrounded by no less than five girls. They all look at him expectantly, and he raises the bottle to his mouth, biting down around the edge of the little metal cap before pulling it off with a tiny _cling_. The girls all cheer, and San hands the now open bottle to the girl closest him, looking extremely pleased with himself.

From his position in the kitchen, Jongho can see Wooyoung in the living room, talking animatedly with a girl Jongho has never seen before. They’re squished in tight together, crowding themselves into the miniscule space left on the couch that doesn’t have other drunk partygoers on it. The girl’s eyes are glazed over with some kind of combination of anger and alcohol which is always a fun, so he wanders over to insert himself into their conversation. He catches the tail end of the girl’s sentence (“…never told me!”) and Wooyoung gasps, offended, as Jongho sits down in front of them.

“What’s the goss ladies?” He asks, finally tossing back the shot he had been carrying around for like fifteen minutes. Yunho had been pouring shots earlier, and because he always made it his job to make sure no one left their parties without alcohol poisoning, he had poured all of the people there three shots each. Jongho isn’t a lightweight per say, but he does know that three shots in rapid succession will make him puke for sure, so he’s been waiting for the opportune moment to finally down the final one. Apparently, this was it.

Wooyoung leans over conspiratorially. “We fucked the same guy and he told us both to get tested for chlamydia, but _he_ never got tested… so why didn’t he just get tested and tell us if he had it or not?”

Jongho nods sagely, not finding a fault in the logic. In the way back of his brain, he kind of wonders who this mystery guy is because he usually makes some sort of contact with Wooyoung’s hookups, but his tongue is heavy and is preventing him from saying much so before he can try to say anything, the moment passes. The girl stands abruptly.

“I know he’s here tonight, I’m gonna ask him.”

Both Wooyoung and Jongho applaud her as she stalks out the back door into their yard knowing they probably will never see her again.

“I got her number.” Wooyoung says as they head for the kitchen, “It’s saved under Sausage Sister. I don’t remember what her government name is.”

In the kitchen, Yunho is pouring shots (again), which Jongho accepts because if he was anything, he was a slut for vodka shots. He cheers’ his friend and slams the small glass to the counter, causing the sticky liquid to spill over his fingers. It burns at his throat; Jongho likes shots better than mixed drinks because you can trace the path of the alcohol all the way down your esophagus before it settles, warm, in your stomach. This shot hits him like a freight train, or maybe all of the alcohol finally caught up with him right just now, but either way when he looks around the world has become a little hazy; everything seems as if its operating on high definition, like when you look at a TV and the picture is just slightly too clear to look good. Maybe he should slow down, maybe not, but the consequences of the evening will be a problem for tomorrow-Jongho, so he also takes a cup of PPD from Mingi who seems to have begun an animated conversation on the ethics of doctor assisted suicide with Alyssa’s friend from earlier. From what Jongho can tell as he squeezes past them, they’re actually agreeing with each other but he’s not sure that they know that.

He finds his boyfriend in the aftermath of an unusual beer-pong loss, and Seonghwa guides Jongho and Yeosang (who had appeared at Jongho’s other side as if he was summoned) back toward their room. Yeosang seems to catch Seonghwa’s drift and moves around the room to collect the weed and the bong and starts packing the bowl like he was born to do it. Under normal circumstances, Jongho would watch him because he finds the act of watching someone pack a bowl to be extremely relaxing, but Seonghwa is being unusually silent so Jongho plops himself down in his lap instead.

“I can’t believe you lost beer-pong, Hwa. Highly suspect.”

Seonghwa smiles a little at that and lifts a hand to point at his eyes. Jongho is only half surprised to find that Seonghwa’s pupils are the size of actual fucking dinner plates, a telltale sign that he was geeked the fuck out. Jongho hadn’t known that Seonghwa was going to drop tonight, but it wasn’t super unusual for him. Out of their little group, he and Yeosang preferred drugs to alcohol (although Seonghwa _could_ pound a bottle of Jack Daniels if he needed to, Jongho knew from experience). He pulls at Seonghwa’s eyes to inspect them, probably too roughly.

“Jesus babe... How many tabs is this?”

“Two… and a half if you count me stealing Yeosang’s out of his mouth after 30 minutes.” Seonghwa croaks. Yeosang snorts on the other side of the bed, still fiddling with the weed container. “I thought the house was on fire when we were playing beer-pong.”

“Are you having a good time?”

“Probably. You look like an angel.”

“You’re okay to smoke?” Yeosang asks, looking up from the bong, finally finished. Jongho is grateful for how carefully the question is worded, not that he would expect anything different out of Yeosang. Mingi had once triggered a bad trip for Jongho just by pointing at his back and saying ‘weird’, but Yeosang was all good vibes all the time.

“I’m not gonna smoke a lot. Jongho can clear it for me.” Every syllable Seonghwa says is somehow both overly enunciated and drawn out. Jongho wishes, not for the first time, that he could see what Seonghwa is seeing because he’d bet his snowboard that it was something completely insane. _I’ll ask him tomorrow_ , he thinks, and tries to remember that thought extra hard so the alcohol wouldn’t erase it from his memory.

“I can do that.”

“Cool.”

Yeosang takes the first rip like a champ. By the time he pulls out the bowl and slide, the tube is an opaque white. It seems like Yeosang keeps inhaling forever, the bubbling noises lulling Jongho into a trance-like state, but he finally replaces the slide and pushed the bong away from himself before falling back on the bed roughly. Jongho lights the bowl for Seonghwa, swirling the flame in a tight circle over the weed. The heat from the lighter flicks up Jongho’s thumb and Jongho decides to call it good before passing the bong over to Seonghwa. On his end, Seonghwa is tuned almost completely out, eyes glazed over, but the muscle memory kicks in before Jongho can decide that, no, Seonghwa definitely does not need to be smoking weed right now, and he tilts the lip toward him. There are two kinds of people, according to Hongjoong. The first kind a) can’t hang when someone brings out weed and b) looks absolutely ridiculous with a bong. They either overestimate how much they can handle, or they just look like idiots, but either way it’s not good. The second kind are the ones that make smoking look sexy; the people that they used to have in tobacco advertisements when those were still legal, the kind that make smoking look _aesthetically pleasing_ enough for kids even nowadays to take up the habit. In short, the kind of people that look good with something in their mouths. In Jongho’s opinion, Seonghwa is definitely the latter. The bong isn’t _in_ Seonghwa’s mouth necessarily, his lips just barely skirt around the lip, but its close enough for Jongho to have several thoughts about other things Seonghwa could have in his mouth before remembering he’s supposed to be policing how much the other man smokes. Jongho cuts him off well before his limit just to be safe, not that Seonghwa really notices, and, really, Jongho should’ve prepared himself for the task of clearing the bong instead of mooning over how hot his boyfriend looked with his lips over said bong.

Clearing the bong is Jongho’s least favorite activity. He could do it, usually, but it fucking sucked and he got way too high, and you know what? Yeah, he was a little bit of a pussy when it came to weed. He liked it just fine, but he never seemed to build up a tolerance to it like most of his friends had, and he much preferred bottom shelf, battery acid flavored vodka to weed. Tonight, he would be fine, the alcohol would even him out, but he didn’t envy himself in 20 minutes the feeling of fire his lungs. Yeosang looked at him knowingly from his place on the bed, and Jongho took a few practice breaths like you might before diving before removing the slide from the stem yet again and inhaling like his life depended on it. He exhaled quickly, _definitely_ not holding it in like Yeosang and Hwa had done, coughed a couple times and placed the bong on his bedside table. The weed worked quickly, pulling Jongho back onto the bed alongside his companions. No sooner had his back hit the comforter than Seonghwa had curled into his chest, similarly to earlier, remarking in a voice Jongho could only describe as _stretchy_ that Jongho’s heartbeat sounded like sunshine.

Yeosang is the first to leave, taking a steadying breath before diving out the door and back into the party. Once the door shuts again, insulating the remaining two from the outside world, Seonghwa starts in on a running commentary about how he felt about everything from moment to moment, starting with a slightly off-color comment about the ridges of the muscles on Jongho’s chest. Seonghwa gave an opinion on everything from how heavy the air felt, to the spinning light above their heads, to the maybe worrying feeling that he didn’t think he would ever stop tripping and that life would just be like this forever. Jongho is unsure what to say to the last one, so he just runs his hand over Seonghwa’s arm, prompting another stretchy rant about what the pads of Jongho’s fingers felt like when they moved like that. They lay like that for a while, long enough to hear a fight start and end outside their room but short enough for Jongho to come down a little and for Seonghwa to decide he absolutely had to be outside ‘Right. Now.’ They stand quickly, Seonghwa gently tugging on Jongho’s hand to rouse him from the bed. Seonghwa seems insistent that he leave immediately, but Jongho keeps their hands intertwined and yanks him back into the doorway. The space is small enough that the pair have to crowd together a little, and Jongho’s voice gets quiet at the closeness.

“Do you want company?”

“No. I don’t know. Maybe.” Seonghwa says in the same stretchy voice, “I’ll be in the Fuck Shack. Come find me in like 30 minutes.”

They still don’t part, hands tangled. Although he knows that focus can’t be Seonghwa’s greatest strength right now, Jongho can tell that Seonghwa is focusing as hard as he can, his thousand-yard stare reduced to maybe fifty meters. At most. Its heartwarming to watch, and it makes Jongho lean up into Seonghwa’s space, close enough that he can feel Seonghwa’s breath on his face. He flicks his eyes up to Seonghwa’s before closing the distance and pressing their lips together gently. Neither of them loves PDA, and Jongho doesn’t even really care about touching that much period, but he does love Seonghwa and he knows that Seonghwa likes the physical affirmations. The little sigh Seonghwa lets out at the touch confirms that just fine. Jongho meant it to just be a little peck, but before he can pull back Seonghwa pushes in closer, so Jongho’s back is nearly pressed against the doorframe, his hands coming up around Jongho’s face. Jongho can feel Seonghwa’s teeth nipping into his lower lip, and it makes Jongho feel like a foggy mirror after a shower.

“Sorry. Just feeling a lot right now.” Seonghwa whispers, moving on from simply nibbling Jongho’s lips to biting and pulling on them softly. Seonghwa sneaks his tongue in, right under Jongho’s top lip, skirting his teeth, and as much as Jongho tries to catch his breath, he really can’t. Seonghwa had had this effect on him ever since they had met, and to this day the feeling hasn’t dimmed even if Jongho knows to be ready for it now. He struggles to keep up with his partner, heart stuttering incessantly, but they’re just on different levels right now, so he contents himself with simply enjoying the feeling of his boyfriend’s lips moving over his. He wants this moment to continue forever, but as suddenly as it had started, Seonghwa pulls back again, eyes staring at _something_ somewhere beyond Jongho’s head.

“I’m going outside now.”

Seonghwa strides off into the party, and Hongjoong pokes his head around the corner of the kitchen entry, eyebrow raised. Jongho knows he’s probably staring after Seonghwa like a lovestruck twelve-year-old, but he doesn’t really care. Instead, he shakes himself off and vows to get Seonghwa back for this at a later date.

´

Jongho can’t actually remember the actions that led him to this moment. After parting with Seonghwa earlier, he’d polished off his Pink Panty Dropper, been goaded into a shot-gunning competition by San (and lost), and then done _more_ shots with Yunho before filling his cup with even more with PPD. After that, everything is… well it doesn’t exist. He’d definitely blacked out for at least 2 hours, probably more judging by the conspicuous lack of people at the house. You can tell time at a party like this: 11 pm: almost no one there save for the party planners and close friends, only _one_ person is blacked out; 12 am: the one blacked out person is now _passed_ out somewhere, the kitchen is full, and everyone is solidly wasted but no party fouls have happened yet; 1 am: strangers show up and start fucking with the vibe, someone definitely spills a cup of _something_ or breaks a glass; 2 am: everyone is trashed; 3 am: everyone is still trashed and those that aren’t have started to go home, at least five people are passed out on the floor; 4 am: only those with extreme stamina are left standing, the blacked out people start drinking water; 5 am: the party is effectively over because the hosts have started going to sleep, but there are still quiet, drunk conversations going on in various places all over the house. By this scale, Jongho thinks its probably between 4 and 4:30, but he can’t check because he has no idea where his phone is. He thinks he remembers meeting Seonghwa in the Fuck Shack, but even that is iffy. He’s done that so many times for so many different reasons (wink wink) so he wouldn’t put it past his alcohol addled brain to start mixing memories together. All Jongho knows is that he’s got a water bottle in his hands (full of actual water, thank god) and he’s standing on their roof completely alone.

It’s definitely nice up here, don’t get him wrong, but it’s starting to get too cold now that he’s sobering up, and he’s kinda lonely, and to be honest he would just like to go to sleep. His number one obstacle, though, is that he doesn’t know how to get the fuck back down from the roof. He doesn’t even know how he got on the roof. He’s been on the roof before, to stargaze, but he’d been with Hongjoong and Seonghwa and Wooyoung then and they had all helped each other up, so the absence of anyone else on this rooftop was a little concerning. Jongho often did stupid shit when drunk, but he can’t imagine becoming Spider-Man is one of those things. Probably.

In their yard, two strangers are sitting around their fire pit, embroiled in what appears to be a genuinely serious conversation that Jongho hates to break up, but seriously? He really wants to get down.

“Hey! Can you guys get Mingi?” He shouts down at the pair.

One of them, a man with messy purple hair, looks up. “Who?”

“Min. Gi. Insanely tall, blue hair, always starting philosophical conversations?”

The purple haired guy turns to his companion, muttering something Jongho definitely can’t hear from this distance, and then turns back to Jongho to shrug.

Jongho huffs. “Do you guys know _anyone_ who lives here?”

“No,” Purple Guy says, smiling, “Yeonjun sent us the invite.”

“Fucking Yeonjun.” Jongho mutters to himself before shouting again. “Well, will one of you get someone from inside? I would like to get down now.”

Purple Guy’s friend stands up then and jogs inside.

“What’s your name?”

“Soobin.”

“Hi, Soobin. I’m Jongho. You know someone who lives here now.” Soobin giggles. Honest to god just giggles.

“You live here but don’t know how to get off the roof?”

“I know _how_. I just can’t. It’s too high without a spotter. Plus, I’m still kinda drunk and I don’t trust myself.”

“Weak! The alcohol will protect you!”

Timing saves Jongho from having to respond to honest to god the most teenager-y shit he’s ever heard (in the last 12 hours), because just at that moment the other stranger comes back outside with Mingi and Seonghwa both in tow.

“Hi, Baby.” Seonghwa smiles up at him, voice absolutely saturated with both exhaustion and love and almost back to normal.

“Hi, Hwa. Feeling good?”

“I’m not peaking anymore so yes, definitely. I was seeing some shit earlier.”

“I could tell.” Jongho recalls wryly. “Can you guys help me get down? I wanna go to sleep.”

Mingi and Seonghwa mutter a little bit to each other, probably planning something that Jongho will never get to live down, and Seonghwa’s mouth stretches into the widest grin Jongho has ever seen (also in the last 12 hours). Mingi moves to just below the edge of the roof where Jongho is sitting and stretches his arms out.

“Jump.” He commands.

“You have got to be fucking me, dude. I weigh like 150 pounds. There’s no way you don’t drop me if I jump.”

“I’m not fucking you, _dude._ I did that wildland firefighting shit this summer, I’m fucking stacked. I could catch anyone.” Mingi flexes obnoxiously, exactly like Jongho would’ve done were their positions reversed, and behind him Jongho can see that Seonghwa is pulling out his phone to record. Pain.

“Whatever. I’m not in the mood to argue, so if I break my back tell your dad that your insurance is my bitch.”

It’s over quicker than he expected. If he had just jumped down on his own, he would’ve fallen for a lot longer he guesses, and he does feel a little bit like he’s just been tricked into something, but Seonghwa is laughing brightly and Mingi _did_ catch him as promised so it’s not too bad. Seonghwa tangles their fingers together for the second time that night as soon as Mingi sets him down, and the pair walk back inside together, Mingi, Soobin and the other guy’s voices fading into the background. Inside, Wooyoung, San, and Yeosang are cuddled together on the couch, half asleep, while Naruto plays softly on the TV. Jongho doesn’t spot Hongjoong or Yunho anywhere, so he assumes they’re asleep somewhere, probably together. Yunho gets extremely affectionate when he’s blasted. The smell of their room makes Jongho’s eyelids droop tiredly; it smells like weed, and himself and most importantly it smells like Seonghwa. He’s so relaxed by the smell that he doesn’t notice Seonghwa flipping him back onto the bed before it’s too late and he’s spread eagle in the center of their mattress with his feet hanging off. His limbs feel like lead, which is fine because he can vaguely feel Seonghwa snaking off his shoes and socks, being too good to him as usual. It’s another minute before Jongho hears, more than sees, the lights click off and he feels Seonghwa crawling up next to him in bed. Seonghwa pushes his body around to the position he wants it in with almost no help from Jongho himself, and Jongho ends up with his head tucked up under Seonghwa’s arm, head just barely on his chest. Seonghwa inhales deeply and then sighs.

“Are you still tripping?” Jongho manages, hoping his words are clear enough to be understandable.

“Yeah. A little.” Seonghwa says quietly, shifting down so Jongho’s head is farther up by his neck. Jongho thinks that at two and a half tabs ‘a little’ is probably a gross underestimate, but he lets it be, because verbalizing that sentiment would take way too much energy, and Seonghwa probably knows anyway.

“You can go back out. I can sleep without you.”

Seonghwa hums and Jongho’s head rumbles with the vibration. “I could. I’d rather stay with you though. You’re good company.”

Jongho hardly manages an ‘mkay. love you’ before sleep pulls him under quick enough for him to only barely register the tender kiss placed at the top of his head. Besides him, Seonghwa smiles into the dark and snuggles in closer.

The night after a party was definitely Seonghwa’s favorite kind of night.

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone and welcome back to me screaming!!!!  
> this was written purely because I partied a lot when I started college and im always desperate to read au's where idols party because they make me feel less bad about how absolutely batshit crazy i was for awhile there + there are a lack of ateez partying fics so. here we are. almost 100 percent of this is pulled from my actual real life. if you can figure out which parts aren't real stories i will venmo you 5 dollars. this also was just meant to be a gen fic with just a Hint of jonghwa (or whatever their ship is called) because honestly they need more fics about them but I got too caught up in it and now they're grossly in love quite frequently. i do not apologize. also if here is everyone's major fyi (i didn't want to cram them all in and make the story bloated so i figured id just put them here for posterity): 
> 
> San: English, literature focus  
> Wooyoung: Biology, genetics focus  
> Yeosang: game design & computer science double major  
> Mingi: Philosophy, ethics focus  
> Seonghwa: Physics, astronomy focus  
> Jongho: Kinesiology  
> Yunho: Business :/  
> Hongjoong: Polisci, International relations focus
> 
> also also the title is only tangentially related to the fic i just want more people to listen to classical music so i decided to start naming all my fics after classical pieces. i probably would party to hungarian dance no. 5 though.  
> as always you can find me on twitter (im @DYKET33Z now) to harass me  
> please give me comments and attention or else i will die
> 
> also one last thing, about parties or whatever, i wrote this to sound funny but genuinely if this is your life PLEASE seek help. I was in such a dark place when I was partying this hard, i genuinely didn't care whether I lived or died. if you need a shoulder to cry on, mine is always available. DO NOT try to replicate anything in this fic for the love of god.


End file.
